


Aigen Shipping

by MycroftsUmbrella78



Category: The Sound of Music - Rodgers/Hammerstein/Lindsay & Crouse
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 15:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11151288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MycroftsUmbrella78/pseuds/MycroftsUmbrella78
Summary: This Georg has a wicked reputation in the boardroom and the bedroom, drives fast cars, dates faster women, and seems resigned to his lavishly lonely lot, until he meets his new au pair from Nonnberg Nannies. This Maria was music major trying to earn enough money to finish her degree. She's sassy and smart and more than a match for our Captain. A modern SOM A/U :)





	1. Start At the Very Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHORS NOTE: This is an A/U. The radical (gasp!) modern kind. This story is a little (a lot) soapy and campy and chock full of all the tropes I secretly love to read about and never want to admit to in public. It's low on angst and high on happy-if you are looking to wallow in depression, missed opportunities, switched suitcases of misunderstandings, and broken hearts-keep clicking, honey!
> 
> A modern retooling of TSOM that I hope y'all will be able to enjoy for the fluff that it is-because heaven knows I adore the fluff. It's long but it's been dancing in my head from almost the first story I ever wrote for this fandom. I probably (definitely) needed an editor, but I don't apologize for any of it.
> 
> It's rated the dreaded and impossible to define 'T' for the first bits because there is bad language. I will have to change the rating in later chapters and, believe me, I plan to earn the rating upgrade. You can easily skip those parts if you wish-but seriously they are the best bits so why would you?
> 
> Hope you guys like it! *Fingers crossed*

Start At the Very Beginning

"Oh, please don't stick like this today!"

Maria Rainer was running late. Again. Wiggling the key in the ancient lock of her apartment door one last time and giving it a kick for good measure she finally freed her key ring and she blew her slightly sweaty bangs out of her face. She dropped the keys into her purse and started for the stairs, digging into her back pocket for her phone. Shaking her head at the screen she decided that she would have to show up with edible bribery for Miss Berthe.

The woman was a rock but she could be chipped away at with chocolate.

Maria took the stairs at breakneck speed and hit the sweltering heat of the city block with a trot. Three blocks and one refusal to see what a charming gentleman in a trench coat was offering to sell her and she was pushing her way into her favorite bakery and cheering at bit at the jangle of bells on the door.

“Hmmm, could I have the one closest to the back please? One more to left. With all the sprinkles? Perfect,” Maria gave the young man behind the counter a dazzling smile before jumping a bit when she realized her purse was ringing. He flushed with pleasure at her smile and fumbled with the tongs holding the cupcake in his hand as he wiggled the bright pink confection into the box.

“Can I get you something else? Anything at all?” his desperately hopeful tone earned him a snicker from the older man frosting a cake behind him.

“Oh, um,” Maria continued to search the bottom of her bag for her buzzing mobile, “No, thank you,” she peered at the young man’s name tag. “Just the cupcake, Logan. You’re new?”

Logan flushed again, pleased she’d noticed him as new, “Not really. I’ve been in and out of this shop since I could see over the counters. But mostly in the back. Fhada is my grandfather,” he explained and went to ring her order up. Charging her less than a regular customer for her beautiful eyes alone. He’d have given it to her for free and offered to unwrap the paper and feed it to her if he hadn’t felt his grandfather’s eyes taking in everything behind him.

Oblivious to all of the attention the poor young man behind the counter was trying to lavish on her, Maria finally located her phone with a sigh. She had missed the call from the agency she had been waiting for. Damn.

Grabbing a handful of crumpled bills from the bottom of her bag she paid Logan and told him to keep the change, grabbing the pastry box and crushing the top half in her hand.

She missed the look of disappointment on poor cupcake lad’s face as she smeared the fresh ink where a besotted Logan had tried to write his name and number.

“See you next time, amira,” called the old man behind the counter who turned long enough to shoot a smirk at the young man whose eyes were firmly on Maria’s rear end.

“Bye Fhada!” Maria tossed over her shoulder as she pushed the door to bakery with a jingle and stepped out into the sun, muttering to herself about being late and wondering if the back window was open wide enough for her to crawl in and avoid Berthe.

Fhada shook his head and grabbed the towel off the counter, using it to lovingly smack his grandson in the head as he passed.

“Eye’s on those knafeh or I’ll be calling your mama to let her know how you act in my shop. Ogling the pretty girls who are too old for you. You’re a college man now. Act like it.”

“She’s a college girl.”

“Getting her Masters. You are going to be a freshman. With an undecided major. What is this undecided? In my day-” he trailed off as he ducked into the back only to emerge a minute later still speaking, oblivious to the fact that Logan had missed most of the lecture.

“No pretty girls will date a man who says he is undecided. Be decided! Your cousin is already in law school, we need a doctor! You’re good at science! If you were a doctor I could show you this rash that-”

“Sorry Jidd, you’re right. No more undecided,” Logan interrupted with a shudder before he had to go into the back and look at the rash himself.

“Eh, you have good taste, no?” Fhada winked at him.

“Nacum. Excellent taste,” Logan grinned back.

 

* * *

 

 

Rose Parker, administrative assistant to none other than Mr. Von Trapp, CEO of Aigen Shipping and current holder of Sexiest Smile in the City for the second year running, sat behind her enormous desk and studied her nails behind the pancake stacked pile of envelopes and boxes that Fedex had just dropped off.

She sighed, heavily.

Opening that many boxes was going to ruin her new manicure and undoubtedly the contents was going to take more than a few hours to organize and disseminate to the right departments. But Mr. von Trapp paid her to open them. As far she could tell that was all he employed her for, well, that and managing the hordes of people who all wanted a piece of his attention. Nevermind her Ivy League education, she was the Chief Box Opener for the CEO of Aigen Shipping. Just as Rose reached for the first of the urgent envelopes her phone rang. She glanced down at the number and recognized Talia from eighty eight floors down calling her. She huffed and glanced at the time, knowing a call this early was trouble and not a friendly ‘how was your weekend’ chat.

“Mr. Von Trapp’s office. Rose Parker speaking.”

“Rosie, it's me,” Talia whispered into the phone urgently. “Pull up your feed from down here. He’s just pulled up and there was a gang of press waiting down the block to ambush him. Grumpy Austrian headed your way in about three minutes. Mmm, hold up. Maybe sooner seeing how he is practically plowing through the crowd.”

Rose spun in her chair and tapped at her keyboard to bring up the security feed for the front entrance of the building.

“Isn’t Gabe down there?,” Rose grumbled into the phone, making a mental note to ask their burliest doorman to always be on hand on mornings The Captain was coming in, even as she continued clearing her desk off in a rush and stacking the boxes neatly behind her.

“Yes, and he's doing his best, but I sent security out there to extract him from the horde. He’s almost made it to the door. Ooh, Gabe got a nice body check in on that schlub from the Times who wrote that ridiculous piece on the Captain last month. Hah, serves you right!”

Rose rubbed her forehead, already feeling the headache begin to form, “I keep telling Mr. Detweiler he needs permanent security detail, permanent I said, to and from the office!” she complained, her breath huffing as she manipulated a few of the larger boxes underneath her side table. “But no, the Captain won’t hear of it,” she finished with a bit of a sneer.

“Oh! Looks like he stopped to give someone a glare, yup, personal space buddy--don't get all up in the Captain’s face. Ouch! I’m going to send you a copy of this feed, maybe Al can set it to music like the last one, its hilarious. The glare alone has taken a few layers of skin off this guy. That’s right beta male, back on down...”

“Wonderful,” Rose huffed, shoving a few of her red locks back out of her face, “I’m certain they got a great picture of that famous scowl. Would it kill him to smile once in awhile? My mother thinks I am working for Dracula as it is, only because I haven’t seen the sunlight since I started here! I have to go, Tal. Gotta place an emergency call to PR and see if we can stop this from hitting every major news outlet. Thanks for the warning T,” she mumbled.

“My pleasure. And, you know, it really is his own fault, if he would take an interview once in awhile he wouldn’t be such a mystery. And he’s wearing the blue suit, darling. You know, the one. Mmm mmm mm...makes me want to ruffle up that Lego perfect hair of his. Damn! No man should be that handsome. Does he smell as good as he looks?”

“Better. Gotta go!” Rose rang off, sending a quick intraoffice message to the rest of the staff on her floor with a warning that the Captain, as he was not-so-affectionately known by his staff, was on his way up, and it had been a rough start to the morning. She could practically hear people running for their swivel chairs...

Swinging around in her seat she grabbed a hair tie off her desk and swept her painstakingly flat ironed hair into an efficient ponytail. What difference did it make what she looked like as long as the boxes got opened? Rosie gave the elevator a wary look, waiting for the polite tinkle of bells announcing her day had officially started, ready or not.

 

Georg von Trapp stepped off the elevator before the doors had managed to open fully, the expression on his face already thunderous as he gave a curt nod to the office staff he passed.

“Morning, sir,” Rose said, standing to follow the Captain as he made his way across the expansive office.

“Mr. Detweiler is waiting for you in your office and then you have a meeting in conference room B at nine forty-five with the Quartz Group. You have a lunch with Neal Blankenship and,” she glanced down at her iPad as it alerted her with a soft ping to a schedule change, “Also, Mr. Detweiler scheduled a meeting with your new security group for tomorrow at 1:30 and he wants to discuss it with the rest of the team beforehand, thank God,” she muttered, “and Nonnberg needs twenty minutes this afternoon for you to meet and approve their next representative. The rest of the afternoon you have cleared for parent teacher conferences. Mr. Dettweiler also asked me to make sure you took your checkbook,” Rose paused and flipped open the case on her iPad and handed him a leather bound check folio, “to the conferences after Kurt’s little experiment in chemistry.”

Georg rolled his eyes at the mention of the conferences.

“Let Johann know I’ll need him for the Quartz Group, give him ten minutes notice and then call him two minutes before or he’ll be late, and call back Nonnberg, tell them no.”

“No to twenty minutes today or just no period?”

“No, full stop. Just tell them to send someone directly to the house, to day if possible. They could hardly be worse than the last one. Thank you, Parks,” he gave her a nod and strode off toward his office.

“Parker, sir, Rose Parker,“ she mumbled under her breath.

Halfway to his door Rose watched him stop and study the screen of one of monitors the security feed of the front entrance still up and streaming a live view of the front entrance.

Georg turned back to Rose and pinned her with an irritated look before half barking in crisp German, “Have that rabble out front at least removed to the side of the building, the doors are being blocked and we aren’t the only people trying to work today.”

“Natürlich, Sir. Rechts entfernt,” Rose replied smoothly.

“Dank,” he said, head already bent over his phone as he strode off towards the massive wooden doors to the left without a glance back.

“I’ve been here two months now,” Rose sighed and looked over at Mrs. Louvelle, Max Detweiler’s assistant, who spent most of her day making dinner reservations, ordering flowers, and fielding phone calls from girlfriends past, with a pleading glance.

“Darling,” she looked up from filing her nails, “You have lasted that long, which is more than I can say for most of the assistants he has had over the last few years. And you speak German brilliantly. I don’t think he even notices that you respond in whichever language he barks toward you.”

“He should. I spent the last month using my running time learning Italian just so I could keep tabs on him when he’s swearing up a blue streak.”

“Chin up, darling, maybe he will learn your name… in the meantime you get to put this on your resume someday.”

“True. And the view isn’t bad either,” she laughed, picking her phone up to call down to the head of security to disperse the press.

“No it isn’t,” Mrs. Louvelle gave a chuckle. “Now let’s get these reports finished so we can have a long lunch at Mr. Max’s expense. He owes me for disappearing into a cloud of perfume and long legs and forgetting yesterday was Monday. Again.”

 

* * *

 

  
Georg walked into his office to find the head of his legal department sitting in his chair, facing the window with his feet propped up on an antique diving apparatus and murmuring into his phone. Whispering sweet nothings to his latest conquest no doubt.

Georg gave an eye roll but felt a smile tug his lips just the same. Max never changed, oozing charm and a devil may care attitude, concealing a ruthless intelligence underneath. People took Max for the rogue he presented to the world, underestimating him until it was often too late.

“Well, darling, if you thought that was good perhaps we ought to…”

Georg tuned out the familiar patter, in which Max called everyone ‘darling’ in case he couldn’t remember their name. He flicked open the paper in his hands with a practised ease, and took a seat in one of the beautifully designed and horribly uncomfortable leather chairs he kept for “special guests” and appointments he didn't want to run too long.

The first time he sat in one he’d looked at Max and declared them perfect.

“More than twenty minutes in these seats and their arses will be so numb they will be begging to leave.” Max had laughed at that while shifting around himself in an effort to try and find a comfortable angle.

“Yes, well assuming your charming personality doesn't do the job faster,” Max had replied with a little smirk.

These chairs really are horrible, Georg thought as he shifted a bit to maximize the blood flow he was certain was being cut off to his bum and waited for Max to notice his presence.

“Darling, you know I like to watch you do yoga. Really? So flexible. Well now you have my undivided attention, do tell, slowly, with details...” Max drawled out, chuckling to the person on the other end of the line.

Georg heard snippets of Max’s conversation while he tried to concentrate on the latest market numbers, he flicked the pages of the paper again in frustration, loudly.

Max turned and gave him a slow smile, placing his hand over the receiver he mouthed, “One minute,” at Georg and turned back around.

“Yes, of course you naughty girl. See you at eight. Auf wiedersehen darling.” Spinning in the chair and planting his elbows on the desk he gave Georg another grin, “What can I do for you this morning?”

Georg set his paper down on the chair opposite him and gave a sigh, “Where the devil were you yesterday? No one could find you.”

“Yesterday?” Max looked confused and held a hand up as though counting off the days on his fingers. “I was home. It was Sunday.”

“Today is Tuesday, Max,” Georg rolled his eyes. “Which makes yesterday?”

“Ah, Monday. No one regrets missing a Monday. Well, that and Lila has the ability to make one forget a little insignificant thing like the passage of time. She can do this marvelous little trick with her…”

Georg held up his palm as if to fend off a slap, “Spare me.”

“You’re no fun,” Max pretended to pout. “What can I do for you this fine morning?”

“For starters, you can get your arse out of my chair and explain this, well, I’m not sure what to call it...” he trailed off, pecking at the screen of his phone for a moment before waving it in front of Max. “This need we, or rather I, have for a security specialist? What the hell is that?”

“Not a what, a whom,” Max said smoothly swiping his coffee cup and half eaten croissant from the desk and standing up to switch chairs. “And you need one. Desperately. Or did you already forget this morning when you were mobbed outside? I saw the feed,” Max huffed in frustration and took a huge bite out of his danish and chewed.

Georg scoffed, “It’s just that speculation piece in the Times about the possible merger--”

Max swallowed the enormous bite, “I prefer hostile takeover,” he grinned, running his fingers down his mustache like a cliched villain.

“Acquisition then, of Franz Limited.”

“As much as I would like to take all the credit, it’s not just my brilliantly engineered hostile takeover Georg and you know it.”

Georg shook his head, “I haven’t needed one in the past.”

“No, but you weren’t as visible before, in a country where they enjoy visibility. Now you’ve officially moved your office here. You weren’t a well known and reclusive billionaire before your decided to expand into the American market two years ago. Curiosity is wonderful incentive. They are mobbing you in restaurants, clamoring at the doors every morning--especially since the news broke about your proposed takeover of Franz Transportation. They are following you into the bathrooms for God’s sake! I can’t even have a piss in peace thanks to you! I’m afraid someone will sidle up mid pee and ask me a question about who does your hair. Makes me very uncomfortable!” Max threw up his hands in exasperation.

“Now Max, size doesn’t matter…”

Max snorted, “Yes it does, just ask-”

“Give it a few more weeks, they will be on to the next story.”

“It hasn’t gone away Georg. It has gotten worse over the last eighteen months.”

“I don’t know why they are so interested, there really is no story here.”

“Which is why they fill in the blanks with wild speculations and rampant rumors every time you do step out.”

“So you're saying I need a nanny for me as well as for the children.”

Max ran a hand through his hair, “Not a nanny. A qualified security individual, or team of individuals, who can assess situations and extract you if necessary. And you know I love them dearly but your children need a drill sargeant, you're wasting your time on these sweet nannies. They are running them off at an unprecedented rate.”

Georg gave him a long look. “I just don’t see the need. I am hardly ever out as it is.”

“Yes, I know. And I intend to address your plans for building a monastery of one in a minute. This isn’t safe and you know it, Georg,” Max blew out a breath as Georg seemingly waved him off topic with a dismissive hand.

Shaking his head he played his last card, “What if you are out with the children, mm? What then? All those people pressing in on you?”

Georg’s expression turned black and he growled a bit, “No one touches my children. No one.”

“Precisely. Which is why we have to at least hear them out. The security people I mean. For them,” Max gestured to a framed picture of the children on Georg’s desk, “if you won’t do it for you.”

“Alright.”

Max felt his shoulders visibly sag with relief that Georg had at least agreed to listen to the security plan. His eyes narrowed as he studied his best friend over the rim of his coffee cup.

“Are you sleeping at all, Cap?” Max asked, peering at his friend closely and noticing the subtle lines of exhaustion and faint smudges of dark under his eyes. “You look exhausted. And borderline too thin.”

Georg turned to look at his reflection in the window behind him, clearly judging himself in the reflection. “Do I look that bad? I know I’m forty two but,” he puffed out his chest a bit and smoothed a hand down his still flat stomach, “Do I truly need a nanny to take care of me?”

“Stop saying that, they aren’t nannies. Think of them as a formidable ally. Someone for whom English is more than just a third language learned out of necessity, need I remind you of the incident when you called-”

“No,” Georg cleared his throat. “You promised never to speak of it again, remember?”

“I rest my case then. You need someone who can control the press and help ease your way. It will keep the Board happy and shut those assholes at Franz up for more than a minute so I can piss in peace! Hopefully. Your physical image doesn’t concern me,” Max remarked, shaking his head at Georg.

“In fact,” Max mumbled more to himself than Georg, “look what they just sent over, next week’s issue. Your one of the top ten Bachelor Business Tycoons… what do you think of that?” Max asked, showing Georg the picture before turning back to study it himself.

Max held the picture up and turned it right and left in the light, “It’s a very good picture, might date you myself if I was into grumpy workaholics.”

Georg glanced over at it and rolled his eyes, turning back to the window.

“Forty two or not they are still tripping over their stilettos to get close to you, sad fact is you won’t let any of them catch you.”

“I did once,” Georg said softly, more to himself than Max.

“I know,” Max replied with a sigh. “I miss her too. My sister was a rare woman. I won’t tease, but part of what makes you so much fun for them is your single status. Until recently you rarely escorted the same lady twice and they do love a mystery.”

“One I thought they might solve for themselves when Elsa and I started dating.”

Max scoffed, “Dating? Is that what you call three dinners, two of which I know you spent a majority of the time on the damn phone because you were talking to me,” Max admonished. “Besides, no ring,” Max said wiggling his ring finger, “and even then they aren’t likely to believe it.”

“Max-”

“Try. For me.”

“Try what? The security personnel, the dating or the drill sergeant for the children?”

Max gave him a grin, “All three? For me? And later on, after I have wrapped the Quartz Group in a contract so tight they won’t be able to breath in the elevator on their way out you’ll can call us even, yes?”

“Alright Max.”


	2. How Do You Solve A Problem Like

 

 

“You have to be kidding me!” Maria whined to herself as she rounded the corner on 5th only to see the gleaming glass doors of the Nonnberg Agency blocked by a crew of window cleaners and the metal scaffolding of absent painters. Traipsing back through the alleyway she prayed that someone had made a trash run and left the back door unlocked. 

 

No such luck. It was locked tight. 

 

Maria looked up at the windows on the second floor where she should be right now. Lamenting the fact that she really was going to get the sack this time she noticed the drainpipe running up the corner of the walls. If she could manage the climb she could sneak in through the window and no one would know how truly late she was. She also wouldn’t have to try and tiptoe past Miss Berthe’s office without being seen. Maria looked down at her nicely pressed black slacks, her low heels, and her very best blue blouse, the one that matched her eyes perfectly and made her appear more sophisticated than she felt, and decided it was worth the risk. Narrowing her eyes at the pipe she shifted her messenger back over her head and across her body before she placed the twine of the cupcake box in her teeth and began to climb.  _ Eat your heart out Spider Man--you don’t do this in heels _ , she thought with a smile as she tested her weight on the narrow pipe and began her ascent. 

 

Maria used her elbow to tap the glass on the window startling Miss Berthe assistant, Margaretta, into dropping a flurry of paperwork all over the office floor as she rushed over. 

 

“Maria?” she shouted through the glass.

Maria put a finger to her lips, clinging with one hand two stories up and trying to look casual, “Shh! Yes, its me! Is it safe to come through?”

 

Margaretta tugged the window open and looked down over Maria’s shoulder at the alleyway two stories below, “Well if it isn’t may favorite little black sheep come to call at my window this morning? How in the world did you climb up here?” She asked, reaching a hand out to Maria. 

 

Maria held out the cupcake box and placed it in the proffered hand and chucked her messenger bag over the sill, before heaving herself up by the casement and climbing through Miss Margretta’s office window.

 

“Thank you!,” Maria gave her a warm smile and reached back to take the box. 

 

“Thought I should bring a peace offering, you know, help smooth things over from last time,” Maria winced a little at the memory of the last job Nonnberg Nannies has sent her out to. Disaster was too nice a word for it.

 

“I still don’t know how you managed to climb up here! It’s two stories!”

 

“Drainpipe,” Maria smirked as she worked to tuck her blouse back into her trousers and smooth her hair into some semblance of control. “I used to climb all the fire escapes when I was little, we didn’t have a park nearby so they became my trees.”

 

Margaretta stuck her head out the window and looked down at the rickety pipe and shook her head, “And you thought to risk life and limb and not use the front door?”

 

“The window people and the painter's scaffolding are blocking the entirety of the front door and the back door was locked. I thought I might be able to sneak in and wait here and act as though I was here earlier than I really was.”

 

“Mmm, that might work. _Might…,”_ Margaretta offered with a shrewd look in her eye. 

 

“I brought a peace offering for being late. And, you know, help smooth things over from last time,” Maria winced a little at the memory of her last job. Had that just been last week? Catastrophe was too casual a word for it. It had ended badly for Maria and the clients decades old Japanese maple tree. 

“Is it chocolate?”

 

“With sprinkles,” with Maria confirmed with a sly smile. 

 

“It would make my day,” Margaretta smiled for a moment before shooting Maria a concerned look. 

 

“Why are you late? Classes are out for the summer, no?”

 

Maria nodded, using the glass of a nearby hanging picture to try and tame her her hair with her fingers. 

 

“Was it--did something happen with your uncle?” she whispered, clearly concerned. 

 

“Oh, no nothing like that,” Maria reassured her, her heart warming at the older woman’s concern. Margaretta has always been a dear to her. Supportive and encouraging and ready with a hug when the world had turned upside down. Which, knowing Maria, was often the case. Margaretta had one of the ose faces that everyone instantly trusted and before they know what was happening they had told her their life story, warts and all, and felt all the better for it. 

 

“I was out walking in the park this morning and everything was so green and fragrant and I just lost track of time,” Maria shrugged her shoulders, “You know me.”

 

“I do. Most likely lost in the music in that head of yours,” Maria blushed at being caught out. “I knew I should have started calling earlier this morning.”

 

“You not my assistant Miss Margaretta,” Maria laughed.

 

“No, but you’re on of my favorites,” she gave her a wink before adding, “I have to warn you she's on the warpath this morning. And that was before you missed your appointment.” Maria frowned, she was so hoping for just a drop of good news to come her way. 

 

There was a loud buzz from Margaretta’s desk and she hopped over to press the intercom, “Yes, Miss Berthe?”

 

“Would you please bring in the Von Trapp file.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“And send Maria along as well, assuming she has dusted the drainpipe dirt off her pants.” 

 

Eyes wide Maria mouthed, “How did she know!”

 

Margaretta shook her head, “Right away. I’ll send the file in with her just now,” she responded, making sure she had released the intercom button before she let out a loud laugh.

 

“Eyes in the back of her head that woman has!”

 

“She is going to fire me, I just know it,” Maria said sadly. 

 

“Nonsense, you’re a natural with children. Despite some of the mishaps you've had the children always love you. Chin up darling! She’s all bark and no bite!” she chirped as she hooked Maria’s bag over her shoulder and tucked a thick manila file folder under her arm before giving her a gentle push toward the door. 

 

“But last time-”

 

“Accidents happen all the time, lamb.”

 

“Yes, but it was just last week and then the week before when I flooded the basement-”

 

“Could have happened to anyone! The buttons on the washing machine were in Chinese after all.”

 

“And time before that? With the pool?”

 

“No one has eyes in the back of their head! I know you kept your eyes on those boys as well as you could, but you couldn’t leave the little sister to bleeding while you chased them. And whose to say it happened on your watch?”

 

“The pool water was black and had chunks floating in it!”

 

“Yes, well, you gave the local EPA office something interesting to do for a change!” 

 

“I’m the black sheep of the agency,” Marie shook her head and closed her eyes against the headache that threatened. 

 

“And the wool of a black sheep is just as warm,” Margaretta rubbed Maria’s back and gave her a calm smile, “Deep breath. Have confidence,” she admonished sweetly. 

 

Maria managed a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes in return. 

 

“I’ll be listening through the intercom like I’m not supposed to and rooting for you.” 

 

“You really are a dear!” Maria have her a one armed hug and set off out the door with  the cupcake box balanced on her outstretched hand. 

 

Approaching Berthe’s office she used her free hand to knock. One always knocked first and waited,  _ patiently _ , outside the door until Miss Berthe cleared you for entry. Maria had learned that lesson the hard way. 

 

“Enter,” came the crisp bark from inside, loud enough to make the frosted glass on the door rattle. 

 

Juggling the box to her right hand, Maria twisted the knob and let herself into the inner sanctum of her bosses office, shivering a little at the frosty gaze that met her. Easing herself into the door she took in the severe posture of the unflappable Miss Bether. Her hair was tortured into a tight bun at the back of her head and her long face held a permanently dour expression, as though all the gloom in the word was pulling down her cheeks under its weight. Dressed entirely in unrelieving black Maria always thought she looked like one of the nuns from her school days. 

 

Perhaps Miss Berthe missed her true calling?

 

Miss Berthe shot her a disapproving look and then pointedly flipped the clock on her desk around so that Maria could see it, and see that she was clearly late for her appointment. 

 

Maria sighed, “I know I’m late-”

 

Berthe held up a hand to stem the tide of words that were certain to rush from Maria’s mouth like a flood. 

 

“No time for explanations this morning. You know how I feel about punctuality,” she said, popping the ‘p’ for effect. “I am double booked as it is so let’s get down to it shall we? File please,” she held out a hand and Maria handed off the folder.

 

“Have a seat, Maria.” 

 

“Of course, but I feel I really must apologize-”

 

“There is no need.”

 

“There is.”

 

“If it would make you feel better.” 

 

“I am sorry. Truly.” 

 

Miss Berthe simply stared at her.

 

“I brought you a cupcake,” Maria added nervously, “With sprinkles.”

 

“A bribe?”

 

“Well, not exactly-”

 

“Chocolate?”

 

“With sprinkles,” Maria repeated, setting the box on Miss Berthe’s spotless desk. 

 

Miss Berthe peeked under the lid with a haughty sniff, “It’s working.”

 

Maria opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted. 

 

“Stop chatting while you’re ahead and I will pretend to believe that you had to pick up printer ink this morning and then decided to check the drainpipe for safety reasons, yes?”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

“Now, about this new job opportunity,” Miss Berthe opened the folder on her desk and riffled through a few pages while Maria shifted in her seat. 

 

”We have had some trouble placing a nanny in this house. The father relocated the family here from Salzburg eighteen months ago--which makes you the perfect candidate considering where your family is from. How is your German? Not rusty are you?”

 

“The German is fine,” a brief shadow passed over Maria’s face before she caught herself and schooled her features into a smile, “My uncle still prefers to speak German when I visit.”  

 

“Excellent. I understand it has been, well, rather difficult on the children and they have used the fact that most of the previous nannies haven’t spoken German to take advantage. He has need of someone for the remainder of the summer, full time. You would have to live there during the week I am afraid, but I am assured the accommodations are superb.”

 

“Well that sounds ideal,” Maia smiled, thinking that just about any accommodations would have to be nicer than her apartment. She had been hoping to have a steady job for the summer to supplement her tuition costs among other things. Maria folded her hands into her lao to stop her wringing them.  

 

“There is a catch…”

 

“Uh, catch Miss Berthe?”

 

“Seven children.”

 

“Seven!”

 

“But you like children Maria.”

 

“Yes, but, seven? Who on earth has seven children these days?”

 

“Mr. Von Trapp does. Ages sixteen down to five. He’s a widower and a very successful businessman here in the city. The children keep to the country house for the summer months. I understand they were less than pleased to be moved here permanently.”

 

“Yes, but but... _ seven _ ?”

 

“He’s desperate. Our agency alone has sent four people, all of whom have come back vowing never to return. Mr. Von Trapp is offering more than a year’s salary for just a few months,” Berthe narrowed her eyes and gave Maria a shrewd look, “More than enough to cover next year’s tuition and still have money to help with your uncle.”

 

Maria’s mouth dropped open, “You’re joking? Why so very much?” Maria asked, suddenly suspicious as Miss Berthe seemed to be avoiding her gaze.

 

“What’s wrong with the children, Miss Berthe?” Maria asked, narrowing her eyes shrewdly. 

 

“Every family has it’s challenges, as you well know.”

 

“Yes, but who did we send last time? Why did they refuse to go back?”

 

“I’m sure the Lord will show you all in His time. Now run along, you’re to meet the father at his offices in half an hour and you’ll have to make it all the way across town,” Berthe explained, shoving a piece of paper into Maria’s hand.

 

“That’s the address of his office,” she gripped Maria by the wrist gently to stop her, “An offer like this won’t come along more than once, do try and make the most of this one my child, and be on your very best behavior.  _ Please _ .”

 

Maria nodded, suddenly turning solemn as she remembered her last five catastrophes she’d had in her time at Nonnberg, “I will. I won’t let you down this time. I promise,” she added seriously, stuffing the paper in her messenger bag and heading out the door.

 

Miss Berthe waited until the door closed before she allowed herself a small smile. 

 

“What do you think Margaretta,” Miss Berthe asked the empty air around her, ”I know you heard the whole thing!” 

 

“I have a good feeling about this!” came a voice from the front desk.

 

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” mumbled Berthe, turning back to the Von Trapp file and placing it in her drawer for what she hoped was the last time.   

 

* * *

 

 

The shifting swirl of thoughts in Maria’s had threatened to make her dizzy as she leaned against the wall just inside of the bathroom she had ducked into. How on earth would she manage seven children at once? She was a good nanny but she was no Mary Poppins. She blew her bangs out of her face and headed over to the sink, resting her weight of teh edges of the sink and looking at herself in the mirror. There were the faint bags under her eyes from lack of sleep, the little white scar on her forehead, the hair that needed a trim. 

 

“You can do this,” she told her reflection in her best no nonsense voice. 

 

“You need the money and you have confidence in you,” she lectured, nodding emphatically at herself before gathering her courage and her bag and heading for the doors. She had just managed to wrestle her phone out of the depths of her bag and was typing Georg Von Trapp into the Google search bar when she hit the exit bar of the door with her back. 

 

Maria was so absorbed in the images her phone had called up she failed to hear Margaretta call out a warning to use the back door instead.  

 

The second the door gave way she has a brief flash of the window washers and the painter's scaffolding and she looked up just in time to see a bucket of paint tip over onto her head just as the washer to her left sloshed a bucket of water her direction. 

 

Soaked to the skin in soapy window solutions and dripping navy blue paint from her normally blonde locks Maria simply stood. Dripping paint and sputtering cleaning solution onto the pavement. 

 

A deafening shriek from behind her made Maria and window washer jump into action. 

 

“Ma’am, I am so sorry,” a young man in spattered white overalls stammered, holding out a towel and reaching toward her as though he might try and wipe her down himself.

 

Maria reached out and intercepted that towel before he could wipe down her breasts in his haste to apologize. 

 

“No, of course not. It was my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going and-”

 

“Oh, what fresh hell is this!” Margaretta rushed out, still shrieking, a handful of bathroom paper towels clutched in her hand. “You're absolutely a mess! Your ruined!” she fussed as she started to dab Maria with a paper towel. 

 

“Please, miss, I am--”

 

Maria wiped at her eyes to clear the drips and peered at the man talking to her, his shirt identified him as Kent from  _ Sunshine Window Washing--We Take Care of All Your Panes _ .

 

“Kent, may I call you Kent?,” she asked, shaking her hands at her sides to air dry them, “It was my fault. I wasn’t watching and I walked right into the mess myself. Please don’t trouble yourself about it. I’ll dry…”

 

Maria looked back at herself in the ironically spotless glass behind her and took in the damage. She had a navy blue streak running through her hair in the front, her blue blouse was soaked and see through,  giving everyone on the street a glance of her white cotton bra, and her slacks probably could stand to be wrung out. She crossed her arms over herself and allowed Margaretta to bustle her inside.

 

“I really am sorry Miss,” Kent called out, returning to his buckets with a blush on his cheeks.  

 

“Lucky for you that entire bucket didn't fall on your head and knock you out!” Margaretta admonished, as she used the paper towels to try and absorb as much of the blue paint as she could. 

 

Maria pulled her saturated blouse away from her chest by the buttons, “I’m supposed to be across town in twenty five minutes. I can’t go like this. I don't have any other clothes with me and--”

 

“We can’t reschedule. When I spoke with Mr. Von Trapp’s assistant yesterday she said this was the only time he had to meet this week. He is flying out to Vienna tomorrow. It  _ has _ to be today.”

 

“I look like a smurf! I need this job so badly,” Maria trailed off. 

 

“Perhaps if we had a new shirt and a sweater? And a hat?” Margaretta asked herself, rubbing her hand on Maria’s arm to stem the panic she could see rinsing in her eyes.

 

“What am I going to do?” 

 

“Well, I do have that box of clothes we collected for the poor in the supply closet…” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“No, as I said before, Mr. Von Trapp has no further comment at this time on the matter,” Rose rolled her eyes at the sympathetic glance Mrs. Louvelle shot her way. 

 

“If and when we have any news on a potential merger I am certain it will be announced. Good day,” Rose relished the solid click she allowed herself as she set the phone own, hard.

 

“How many does that make?”

 

“An even ten,” Mrs. Louvelle answered, popping her palm down onto her stapler and setting documents aside in a hot pink tray trimmed in feathers. 

 

“I'm going to record myself saying, no comment, if you'd like to hear that repeated press one, if you'd like to hear a different option hang up and call someone else!

 

Mrs Louvelle laughed, “I wish we could...I could make a similar recording for some of the ladies who insist on calling Mr. Max. You had a call from downstairs while you were on the line. There a Miss Rainer waiting downstairs in the lobby for her appointment with the Captain.”

 

“Miss Rainer? Miss Rainer,” Rose tapped a pencil against her forehead for a moment, “Oh, from the Nonnberg Agency. I cancelled that…” she trailed off talking at keys if her computer to verify, “Yes  I'm sure I did.”

 

“Shall I have them send her away? They indicated that she was quite a character.”

 

“He’s running ahead of schedule and regardless of what he said I think I should give him the opportunity to meet her if he'd like. He leaves for Vienna in the morning and I know he planned on meeting her tonight at dinner but… And she's come all this way.”

 

Mrs Louvelle picked up the phone with a nod of agreement and instructed them to give the odd young lady a visitor’s pass and send her up immediately. 

 

Rose was just resisting the urge to take off her heel and beat the printer to an early death when the door for the elevator gave its soft ping.

 

“Rosie have you seen the--” the older woman simply stopped talking and stared. She knew it was unprofessional but the girl in front of her was not the type she was used to walking into this office. And that included Frasier the office messenger who was covered with the delightful Disney tattoos. 

 

“Is this Mr. Von Trapps office?”

 

“It is,” Rose replied, “Are you Miss Rainer?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Won't you, er, have a seat?” Rose asked, indicating the waiting area. 

 

“Oh no. I wouldn't dream of it. Not in my current condition.”

 

“May I take your, uh, sweater,” Rose offered, wondering where on earth she had found a sweater that looked as though she had shot Chewbacca and skinned him alive. 

 

“No, thank you. Trust me, the shirt it’s covering up is much worse.”

 

Rose nodded, pursing her lips together to stop from asking to see the shirt.

 

Mrs Louvelle peered over the side of her desk, “Your bum looks dry enough. Oh, those were the days...you've no bum at all deary! What size are you?”

 

“Oh, well I…”

 

“You don't have to answer that,” Rose smiled at Maria while trying to shoot Mrs. Louvelle a ‘stop talking’ look.  “I might be able to find you a towel somewhere. Is that paint in your hair, under the, uh hat? I’m sorry does your hat say Spinach?”

 

“Unfortunately yes. I can explain.” And Maria found herself telling the whole tragic story to two perfect strangers.

 

Mrs. Louvelle wiped the tears of laughter from her cheeks and insisted that Maria sit down while they waited to see if she could be worked into the schedule. 

 

“Mrs. Louvelle, the light of my life, do you have a copy of the--,” Max stopped, mouth open as he took in Maria seated primly in a one the waiting area chairs yet dressed like something from sideshow. 

 

“Who, or should I say what, is  _ that _ ?”

 

Rose perked up from her desk, “Maria Rainer. The new nanny. Isn’t she something?”

 

“She’s...something alright,” Max narrowed his eyes, “I personally reviewed her file and nothing in that or her background check mentioned that she dressed, uh, quite so colorfully. And she was drier in her photos.”

 

“Oh, Mr. Max, she’s very sweet,” Mrs Louvell offered,  “She told us the whole story when she came in. She had a series of mishaps this morning but she’s a pip I tell you!She’s so different from the last few...maybe this one will last more than two hours?”

 

Max rubbed a thumb over his mustache, his expression suddenly serious, “I hope so. The children need someone.”

 

Rose and Mrs. Louvell exchanged a look but knew better than to press Mr. Max when he was serious about anything. He could be remarkably tight lipped when he had a mind too. 

 

“I thought that Georg asked for this meeting to be canceled?” Max asked, changing the subject and snapping back to his usual congenial self. 

 

“He did,” Rose affirmed, “I left a message at the agency but I suppose our wires got crossed and they sent her over anyway. I was waiting until Mr. Von Trapp ended his phone call to ask if he would like to speak with her personally, since she came all the way across town. Should I send her away, sir?”

 

“Are you kidding? I would pay money to send her in just to see the Captain’s reaction! In fact, do just that. Who’s he on the phone with?” Max asked peering over her desk to look at her caller ID. 

 

“Giovanni, but he's still in the conference room. He took the call from there when everyone cleared out.” Rose answered, “But he should be wrapping up soon. He is actually ahead of schedule today. I am trying to make sure he gets to those parent teacher conferences. I am not going in his place again.  _ Ever _ .”

 

Max laughed, “I don’t blame you. No no, you have my express permission to send her into his office to wait for him” Max held up a hand when Rose looked ready to protest, “I insist, she will be my responsibility. And don’t announce her!”

 

“But, sir I--”

 

“Oh no. It’s rare that I get a chance to have a one up over Georg. Send her in so I can watch the show,” Max shot her a grin and made a shooing motion as Rose sent him a questioning look over her shoulder on her way over to a nervous looking Maria. Max could see her gesture to the door and watched as Maria stood, looking more and more like a wrinkled potato sack as she dried.   

 

“Mr. Max,” Mrs. Louvell shook her head, “You really shouldn’t--,” she wagged her finger at him like an errant child.

 

“Stop it now, this is business,” he grinned, “Oh, I know, it won’t do me any good either, but it’s just too much fun,” Max said, scooting off to find a seat close enough to the door to overhear but not be Georg’s line of sight.

 

* * *

 

 

Maria stepped gingerly through the massive wooden doors, painfully self conscious of the squish of her shoes against what was clearly a an expensive rug, her feet practically sank into it. 

 

She scoffed, muttering to herself at the opulence around her, “Probably hand sewed by blind one armed monks on a mountain somewhere.” She glanced back to make sure she wasn’t leaving wet tracks behind her.

 

It was enormous, larger than four or five of her apartment smashed together, and freezing cold. Despite the heat outside, Maria felt as though she was inside a block of ice, surrounded as she was by glass and more glass. The walls and corners were decorated with antiques clearly pillaged from old ships and dock yards. She reached out a hand to run her fingers along the ancient ropes looped around a whaler's harpoon that was balanced against a corner. Knowing what she had gleaned from the internet about the man who owned this office they probably stabbed through the inspiration for Moby Dick.

 

Maria headed over to the chairs that sat in front of the massive wooden desk, clearly designed to humble and intimidate whoever had misfortune to sit there. She placed her messenger bag in the ground and lowered herself into the seat to wait. 

 

And wait. 

 

And wait. 

 

There was no clock on the wall or the desk but she felt as though she had been sitting for hours. Or maybe it was just the chair. She had been shifting her bottom for the last five minutes or so just to keep the blood flow up. Humming to herself as she sat she took in the desktop in front her, noting that every single pen, file folder, and paper was lined up with brutal precision. His post-it notes even looked as though they had been lined up with the use of a ruler. Lifting up in her seat just a bit Maria peered over the open laptop in the desk and wrinkled her brow at the obvious items missing from his desk. 

 

There was not a single photograph.  

 

Stomach rumbling Maria settled herself back into her chair and absently rubbed her belly, trying to ignore the little crystal bowl on the edge of his desk, just beyond her reach. It was filled with chocolates. The deliciously expensive kind. Her stomach growled, reminding her that buying a cupcake for someone else with what little money she had for the week and swallowing a few tablespoonfuls of paint and window washing solution did not make for a very filling lunch. 

 

Maria shot a quick look back through the massive doors at the still closed door of the conference room and the closeted Mister Telephone Tycoon and wondered if she should sneak a chocolate? Maybe she could finish an entire piece before Mr. Von Trapp came back from swindling someone from their life savings? No, she thought, folding her hands in her lap against temptation, that would be wrong. Taking without asking, even if one was wasting away to nothing. Besides, he would probably enter the office and notice her existence the moment her mouth was full of chocolate and she would drool or speak with her mouth full. 

 

She sighed. Her stomach growled again. Days of boxed macaroni and cheese were clearly taking their toll on her self control. Maria reached out and felt her fingertips brush against the glass dish. She stretched just a bit further and felt a cellophane wrapper graze her thumb. She made a grab for the wrapper just as a door behind her was opened with enough force to make a clang against the door stopper, and yanked her hand back, bringing the bowl of chocolates to a crashing spill on the floor in front of her.

 

“Oh!,’ she jumped from the chair and knelt on the floor and began stuffing the chocolates back into the bowl.

 

“Are you part of the new cleaning crew?” came a deep voice from over her head. 


End file.
